Away to London
by Hipster.Trash
Summary: Sherlock AU- You (Anon) are going with Sherlock and John on an adventure (maybe). I don't know how long this is going to be, and I'll try to update at least once a week if not more
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock AU- You (Anon) are going with Sherlock and John on an adventure (maybe)

Part 1

I turn the handles in the shower off and grab my towel, shaking my head then wrapping it around me. As I step onto the bath mat, I look in the mirror and frown. I am so not ready to go to school today. _I would much rather take a vacation, preferably with lots of books, drinks, and Netflix_, I think.

A few minutes later, after running my fingers through my hair and sighing into the mirror, deciding that I would do nothing further to fix my appearance, I hear a knock on the door. I assume it is my father so I say 'Just a second!', tighten my towel around myself and open the door to a eyeful of wool coat and blue scarf. I look up to a straight, pale face man whose head is haloed by curly mop. He opens his mouth and says quickly, 'Yes, I am Sherlock Holmes, and I am here to take you to London. Urgent matters.'

I do nothing but stand, staring agape at this tall man. This tall, _fictional, _man. His brow creases slightly, then he turns to the right and gestures to a much shorter, stouter man.

'And this is my… acquaintance, John Watson.'

A shorter, stouter, just as fictional, man.

I turn back and stand, shocked, not comprehending until I notice a slight blush forming across his face. I look down and see that I am, in fact, in a towel. My eyes widen and I jump back, slam the door and slouch with my back pressed against it, a million thoughts running through my head, or I think through my head until I hear,

'I can answer questions, my dear, but not at that speed.'

I clamp a hand over my mouth, turning slowly and open the door once more, peeking my head around to see these two men, still standing there and staring at me. I make a small noise and slam the door shut. For some reason foreign to me, I say,

'I need to get dressed before I can go anywhere.' It is silent, then,

'Um, well yes, we can, um, wait for you out… here?' I slowly turn to the mirror and stare at my flushed figure. I blink rapidly and try to comprehend what is happening, slowing down my thoughts. _First things first. There are two fictional characters in my house. Second things first. I have no clothes on. Third things first… I have to get to my bedroom to get to my clothes. Shit._

I close my eyes and mentally pump myself up for this task. _All I need to do is open the door, calmly tell them that my clothes are in my room, and get dressed. _So, I open the door, make a weird high pitched noise and run to my room a few feet away, slamming the door behind me.


	2. Chapter 2

Now out of immediate danger, I am faced with a bigger obstacle, the enormity of which I was slowly realizing. _What the fuck do I wear on an adventure with a fictional character? Does this mean I'm fictional now too? Is this outfit going to be my signature 'look' for like, forever? Wait… AM I FICTIONAL TOO?_

I can't help gasping at air, slowly hyperventilating and sinking to the ground. I bury my face in my towel and try to calm myself. _This doesn't mean I'm fictional, not necessarily. Just that fictional characters can come to life. But they aren't animated, so does that mean that Benedict is out there somewhere just living his life, unaware? Wouldn't you like… know? But if I'm fictional too does that mean that this is the show… that I'm being filmed right now? _I jump up and whirl around, looking for any sign of a camera. I see none but I'm still a bit wary. I decide I'm going to get dressed as fast as I can and pull out shorts, a tank top and a jacket. After these are on, I slip my converse on my feet and add some simple jewelry, deciding that if this is my signature look, I'm going to look good. When I'm okay with my appearance, I make my entrance back into the hallway. I'm met with the two facing each other, foreheads pressed together mumbling things I cannot hear. Despite my previous state, I cannot help but slap my hands to my face and squeal, 'You two are so CUTE!'

They spring apart with burning faces. Sherlock clears his throat, and John stumbles over his words, exclaiming,

'We were NOT… I am NOT… We are just-'

I raise my eyebrows and stare at him, his blush deepening. I turn to Sherlock who is fixing his overcoat and scarf, trying to hide the pink coloring his cheeks. Trying to relieve the tension, I ask,

'When are you going to explain this situation to me? Because I have had no explanation whatsoever and as I hope you can understand, that is not making this any easier for me. So please, tell me why you are in my house.' I pause, then exclaim, 'More importantly, HOW did you get in my house?'

They exchange an almost guilty look, then John says, 'Sherlock picked the lock on the back door.'

I blink, wondering what the hell is wrong with him. 'What about my dog? I heard her barking but she stopped… In fact, I haven't heard her or seen her at all since this encounter!' I push past Sherlock and run to my back door, where my dog is laying, seemingly asleep. 'WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY DOG!' I scream. Sherlock comes striding in and looks down with a blank face.

'Minor sedative in a treat. It has no negative effects, don't worry. It will be out for…' He looks at his watch, then back at my dog. 'Another hour and 7 minutes exactly. I was able to calculate the exact dosage for a dog it's breed and size. It was incredibly effective, as it seems.'

I stare at him. His blank expression turns to confusion, a look almost foreign to me coming from this genius, someone who is rivaled by no one, save his equally impressive brother. It seems this man is only stumped by social encounters, which under most circumstances would be almost humorous, but as I am kneeling by my comatose dog, this only infuriates me more. John comes rushing in, his shortness obviously a setback when keeping up with someone almost 6' and a half. Sherlock turns to his companion, and in a panicky voice, says, 'What did I do, John? The dog is fine, like I said, minor sedative! What did I do wrong?'

John stares openmouthed at him. 'You knocked out the damn dog, Sherlock! How would you feel if someone drugged me?'

'Well, since it was a minor sedative-'

'No! You can't let anyone-' He pauses and looks away, his hand on his face. 'You let Mycroft drug me, didn't you?' Sherlock shrugs and says,

'Well he said that it only worked on people with a low IQ and so we decided to try it out on you-'

'Damn it, Sherlock, I told you not again! The last time I didn't-'

I stop them both and exclaim, 'Despite the fact that you broke into my house and drugged my dog with NO explanation, you two have time for some god damn domestic! Will someone tell me what the hell is going on right now?!'

They exchange a look, and Sherlock sighs. John puts out a hand to help me up off the floor. He gives me a small smile and says,

'We have a lot of explaining to do, huh?'


End file.
